Enchanted

Chapter 3

A/N: So I wrote some angst on accident, but then I cheered Tomura up. Sorry if the end part feels rushed I have no idea about what I was writing about and also I kinda was inspired by part of "Frankendick and the Great Acid Fiasco" on Ao3 by  EllaBesmirched (El_Bell). So go check that out.  Also trigger warning for mentioned transphobia (really it's only mentioned, not really described that much) and Tomura has some self-hating thoughts (but not like really extreme). 

-Josephine

Tomura walks into his room and closes the door behind him. It's dark, he must have left the curtains closed this morning. The only light is a faint glow from the curtains and flickering of his computer and game systems. Dropping his bookbag against his dresser he heads to the bathroom. Tossing his glove on the floor before he enters.

Today had been a quirk training day, and his entire body ached. Slipping out of his clothes he sees some bruises already forming on his torso. He doesn't wait for the water to fully heat up before stepping under the water.

Takami had been assigned as his sparring partner. Tomura wasn't sure if Aizawa realized how much the other disliked him. Aizawa is an observant man, despite the facade of tired indifference the man is vigilant as hell. There was no way in hell Aizawa hadn't noticed the way the other did everything he could to make Tomura unhappy. If the other could do something without anyone else noticing, he would.

Takami had not held back during their sparring session. Tomura wasn't unathletic in any sense of the word, he had a lean muscular build. But Takami had a much larger build and had thus kicked Tomura's ass. If they had been allowed to use quirks Tomura would have stood a much better chance.

Yeah sure make excuses for yourself. Magne was able to beat Jin remember, Dabi beat Kai, maybe it's just you.

Tomura doesn't feel like showering anymore, he quickly washes his hair (shocking I know) and body. After drying off he stares at his reflection comes into focus as the mirror slowly defogs.

Red eyes, blueish grey hair, sunken eyes, scarred lips, scarred eye, mole. Everything about you is the opposite of Takami, you look more like a villain than a hero.

Sighing, Tomura shakes away the unsettling thoughts, he turns off the lights on his way out. Tomura dresses quickly in the dark and pulling on his gloves. He walks over to open the curtains. The view is beautiful, sunlight streaming in through the window to bathe the room in a golden glow.

Call Kurogiri.

Tomura flops down on his bed and fishes his phone from his book bag. Scrolling through his vary shortlist of contacts to Kurogir's name.

"Tomura, how are you doing?" Kurogiri picks up after the first ring. Tomura smiles at his voice, it's calming and familiar.

"You remember how you said to ask for help?" Tomura cuts right to the point. It has taken a lot for him to get to this point.

"Yes, what is the problem," Kurogiri doesn't sound phased at all.

"I feel like I don't belong here," Tomura says. It feels wrong like he shouldn't be saying this, shouldn't bother Kurogiri like this.

"How so?" Kurogir asks him. Tomura frowns, considering.

Because Takami will always outshine me because Dabi will never find me attractive because I don't feel like a hero?

"Everything feels wrong." Tomura can't find the words to explain it, he doesn't even fully understand it. Something inside him feels twisty and wrong, it's making him feel angry.